


Inevitability

by rhythmicroman



Series: Mercy Is A Foreign Word [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Backstory, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus, Dad W. D. Gaster, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good W. D. Gaster, Goopy W. D. Gaster, I'm Sorry, Melting, Papyrus Has Issues, Papyrus Needs A Hug, Papyrus is broken, Paranoia, Sad, Sad Ending, Side Story, i broke my own heart writing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:56:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmicroman/pseuds/rhythmicroman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Inevitability' (Prequel to 'Mercy is a Foreign Word').</p><p>It was dark. So dark. He couldn't see at all.</p><p>But if he squinted, he saw something shiny - he moved his hand, and when he felt it beneath his fingers, cold and crisp, he realized that it was a wall - no, a mirror. He could just make out his own broken reflection, warped and twisted in the mirror's dents.</p><p>And suddenly, the mirror was set alight. Orange flames danced on his reflection, and, no matter where he went, it seemed to follow him. Watch him.</p><p>He caught sight of his blazing eyes, tangled within the fire.</p><p>He was burning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Who Conspire, Enemy Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Y'know that 'angst chapter' I promised?  
> It turned into an entire fic plan.
> 
> So, MiaFW is now on a temporary hiatus whilst I write this (and edit the chapters to said hiatus-fic).
> 
> How DID Papyrus find out about Chara? Here's the fucked-up way he did. Enjoy.  
> If you ask me to tag something, I will.  
> No sexual content. But VERY creepy.
> 
> Dad!Gaster.
> 
> (Came from my weird mind five minutes before posting. Chapter title comes from the song 'Enemy Fire' by Bea Miller.)
> 
> ((P.S: I broke my own heart writing this. Then I snuggled my baby sister for a few minutes and felt better again.  
> I see how Sans feels. I'll severely hurt you if you damage her.))

'Inevitability'.

It was dark. So dark. He couldn't see at all.

But if he squinted, he saw something shiny - he moved his hand, and when he felt it beneath his fingers, cold and crisp, he realized that it was a wall - no, a mirror. He could just make out his own broken reflection, warped and twisted in the mirror's dents.

And suddenly, the mirror was set alight. Orange flames danced on his reflection, and, no matter where he went, it seemed to follow him. Watch him.

He caught sight of his blazing eyes, tangled within the fire.

He was burning.

He started sobbing, for a reason he didn't quite know, and clawing at his face. His hands tingled and twitched, burning between each joint, and his fingers felt stiff. His cheekbones and jaw scraped and curled off him as he scratched at his face, and he could feel that he was breaking.

Breaking. Shattering. Curling. Melting.

Shattering. Curling. Melting.

Curling. Melting.

Melting.

MELTING.

And then His face was staring back at him, through his reflection. His eye felt hot and sticky, and the other had squeezed shut, and he couldn't move, couldn't scream.

"____RUS, __ ___... __K_ U_!"

The voice was warbled and broken, and it sounded almost like his, but darker, and deeper, and through his sobs he could realise that he was calling for his brother.

Where was Sans? Where was Sans? Sans should save him from this horror!

"PAPYRUS, M_ _ON... WAK_ UP!"

And he felt himself screaming back. Screaming that no, he didn't want to, even though he desperately did.

He wanted to melt. He felt his eyes close and didn't fight it. He felt himself falling, his body turning to dust. Until all that was left was a head, though it barely resembled anything he'd be proud to call his.

"NOW IS NOT THE TIME. PAPYRUS, CHILD, THE HUMAN GHOST IS COMING. THEY ARE COMING."

And somehow, he knew what that meant.

He let himself turn to dust.

-

The mirror that morning seemed terrifying to him.

Normally he'd stand up and waltz over and be proud and loud, like always. He'd grin and pretend that no, Frisk didn't look guilty, and no, Sans wasn't hiding behind his smile, and no, nothing was wrong, everything was fine, fine, fine!

But he couldn't.

So he took the picture from beneath his mattress and hid under his blankets, rubbing a thumb gently along the paper.

Sans looked so happy and carefree, even if he was head-to-toe in science gear. Goggles were resting above his eyes and a tiny Papyrus sat on his shoulder, in - Papyrus smiled when he saw it - a cornflower blue jacket that draped way below his knees, with sleeves so long they draped down Sans' chest.

And beside them, stood the creature from his dream.

"Daddy." he said simply, looking at the familiar face - the cracks, the lopsided smile, the familiarity, it made him feel safe.

He pressed a kiss to the picture and slid it back under his mattress.

He wasn't afraid anymore.


	2. Smoke And Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ground was peeling beneath him, and the walls were melting. Melting? What walls? All he could see was the inside of his own eyes.
> 
> But how did that work? He didn’t even have eyes. And yet they were burning. Tingling. They kept rolling back in his skull. He shivered and let them.
> 
> It’s no good resisting. They’ll just do it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another thing.
> 
> It's 1 AM on a Saturday whilst I'm writing this, btw. And I haven't slept for more than, like, 5 hours.
> 
> I felt like I needed this to be creepier? So I did this. Um. Yeah.
> 
> Enjoy, I guess.

The ground was peeling beneath him, and the walls were melting. Melting? What walls? All he could see was the inside of his own eyes.

But how did that work? He didn’t even have eyes. And yet they were burning. Tingling. They kept rolling back in his skull. He shivered and let them.

It’s no good resisting. They’ll just do it anyway.

He can faintly hear the voice of his brother - faded, quiet and soft. Sans’ voice always was on the softer side. He supposed it was a nice change from his loud, flamboyant tones.

The mirror was melting. Or was his reflection melting? He forgot how to tell. He forgot how to see.

He wanted to scream, but his lungs couldn’t breathe - but he didn’t have lungs. Or did he? He’d forgotten who he was.

Red filled his eyes. Red, red, red! He always liked the colour red.

And yet he flinched away from it, though he couldn’t move. And yet he screamed and yelled at it, though he couldn’t speak.

What was the meaning of this? What was the meaning of meaning? Who was he? Where was he?

And the voice came back. Softer now, shakier now. And his reflection stopped melting. It wasn’t his anymore.

The reflection was smaller. Shorter. Wider. He felt like he should know who they were. The voice came to mind. Was this the voice? Was this the Sans?

What is a Sans?

The sounds the voice made could barely be recognised as words. He strained his ears to listen, before realising that he didn’t have ears. Or did he? He wasn’t sure. How does he hear, without any ears?

And then he was spinning. But he wasn’t moving, the world was moving - or maybe it was just in his head, as the reflection seemed to be swaying with him. It was like a dance. Maybe if they danced long enough, the voice would sing along.

The reflection’s eyes were leaking. But they had no eyes. The world made no sense. What a funny saying - as if people make factories to create Sense!

Or maybe they did? If so, there was a severe lack of it here. Where was here?

He raised his hand to touch the mirror, and The Sans raised a smaller one. He felt a shiver as he touched the smaller’s fingers, and another as his thumb slid through the neat hole in his palm.

The voice stopped, only for a moment, before the reflection’s eyes - eyes, eyes, but he didn’t have any - came up to meet his - eyes, eyes, no eyes here, mister no-eyes - and the voice returned.

“Pap… how…?”

He didn’t know how to understand. How does someone understand?

Is it a conscious decision? What is consciousness? Is it death? Is it life? Is it somewhere between the two?

Is he dead? Is he in limbo? If he is dead, then this is hell. The broken reflection - The Sans - stops swaying, and so does the world, and suddenly they’re falling, falling…

But they’re still stood on the ground. It feels like he’s sinking, lower, deeper, down - but the twisted reflection held him up.

He realised his fingers were still slotted in its palm. He felt rude.

“No, no, don’t let go!”

Who is Go? What should he not let Go do?

Go, go, go, go…

Ah! Don’t let go…

And his fingers curled tighter, tighter, around his reflection- no, Sans’ reflection -’s fingers, and palm, and wrist.

Until he was flying - no, he was just tall. Or small. What was the difference?

Sans’ reflection unhooked his fingers from Papyrus’ palm, and vice-versa - and suddenly the world was melting and peeling and dripping again.

It felt like he was made of wax, and suddenly he was melting too.

“I’ll see you in the morning, bro…” the voice - Sans, said sadly.

And then the world swallowed him whole, and his eye was so hot, and melting, except it didn’t exist, and his ears rang, apart from they weren’t there either, and suddenly he was shrinking, smaller, smaller, or was the room growing?

It hurt. Or did it? Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was sad. His soul was melting. Perhaps he was pain?

And then his jaw moved, and his nonexistent lungs let out a burst of air (or was it red water?), and he screamed into the void, into the voice, into the walls, into the melting mirror and his brother’s reflection.

…

…

…

And the burning child screamed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the last line was inspired by Error!Sans. Shut up. I love him.


End file.
